Thank You for the Music
by Keiba Namid
Summary: An aspiring musician is involved in a ground-shattering accident, and - so cliche'd, I know - our turtle friends fight to save her life. In the process they find a woman who has been shattered many, many times, with mistakes that still haunt her to this day. *REWRITE IN PROCESS*
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Okay guys. Just so you know, this story is getting reviewed. This chapter has stayed mostly the same, for you old readers, but the next few are going to have a bit of changing here and there. New readers, you don't need to care! Yay for you! :P **

**Anyway, just FYI, if you're looking for romance, this story really isn't going to have any. It is, though, going to have some drug references, so just a fore-warning. So, go ahead, read it, review if you wanna (no pressure... ;). Enjoy! :D**

**~Keiba~**

* * *

It was the day before New Year's Eve eve, and I was sitting in my special place on top of the Brooklyn Bridge. The sky was clear tonight, and there were more stars in the sky than I thought were possibly visible from New York City. A slight smile played on my lips as I surveyed the glittering mass of Manhattan Island. Though it was far from peaceful, it had an aura of calm radiating up to me.

I sat there for a while; just breathing in the night air and watching the ferries float by beneath me. I closed my eyes, but they flickered open to the sensation of ice brushing my skin. I glanced around to see white dust drifting down over the city. A bubble of laughter escaped my mouth as I caught a snowflake on my finger.

I stayed there a little while longer, before I realised I was actually starting to shiver. Grinning, I pulled my denim jacket tighter around me and climbed down from my seat. My feet touched the street and I began the short walk home.

After walking a couple of blocks, I ran into a homeless family. Stopping in front of them, I fished for my purse and pulled out a twenty dollar note and a couple of quarters. I placed them in the young boys' hand, smiled and said "Happy New Year's" before turning and leaving.

I reached the alley that turns onto the backstreets where I live, only to stop short. Right there in front of me was a shabbily-dressed guy holding a crow-bar. And he was about to smash it into my face.

What else was I supposed to do? Like any other sane woman on this earth, I screamed. But, unlike any other sane woman on this planet, I quickly snatched it out of his hands.

"What do you think you're _doing?_ You could hurt someone with this thing!" I cried, dismayed.

He snorted. "Well, DUH!" I glanced him up and down. He couldn't have been more than sixteen. Glowering, I hid it behind my back.

"Does your mother know that you're out at this time?" I queried. He avoided my gaze. "Well?"

He muttered some that sounded like a "No" so quietly that I almost couldn't hear him.

"Well maybe you shouldn't be out, now should you?" I commented sternly.

He shook his head, blonde bangs flinging everywhere. "Go home, child. You don't need to wander the streets this late. There's no purpose!" And with that he nodded, scampering off. I grimaced after him, shaking my head. I dropped the crow-bar in a dumpster.

"OW!" There was rustling in the dumpster, and then something large and green emerged. My mouth flapped open.


	2. Chapter 2

I stared at the green hand clutching its equally green head amongst the black garbage bags. Realising my mouth was still gaping open I quickly covered it with my hand. I was in complete shock.

"Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry! Are you ok?" I gushed. Immediately I started fussing.

"I'm fine," it grunted. The voice was quite male, and had a Brooklyn accent. The crow-bar was lifted into the air as he inspected it. Chucking it aside he climbed out of the bin and onto the street. I swept in a quick rush of breath.

"You're a _turtle_," I exclaimed. He gave me an exasperated look that said 'no-freaking-duh, lady'. I took no notice. "That is _so _cool!" I grinned.

He appeared completely and utterly surprised – humbled, even. "Really?" he asked.

"Totally!" I was gushing again. "I've never seen that before. That's really, really ... abnormal. But in a good way, I mean ..."

We started walking down the street while I non-stop talked. For a second I paused, puzzled. Turning to him, I asked, "Why were you in a dumpster?"

"Uh ... I was just ... uh ... looking for something," he said.

"Ok," Something else caught my attention for a couple of seconds, and when I spun round again the turtle was gone. I flipped my head round, searching for him. He was nowhere.

Gone.

...

I flopped onto the couch in the dark unit and almost immediately fell asleep. My dreams were peaceful; filled with music and laughter and dancing, until one dream made me toss and turn.

I woke up, sweating and breathing heavily. Sunlight poked through the wispy blue curtains, and a slight breeze stirred them. I sat up, pulling my jacket off as I did so. The cool breeze immediately started drying the sweat covering my arms.

Images of a beautiful little girl flashed through my mind again. _My poor Karissa..._

...

I walked down the block to the recording studio. They'd called me in early to finish that last song for the album – what could I say? Not like I was complaining. Passing the last few buildings, I came to a tall, brick building nestled in amongst the much taller structures of New York. I swung open the large glass doors and stepped inside.

"Nadya!" a gleeful voice chirped from the front desk. "You're in Studio three today, okay?"

"Thanks, Mercy," I smiled back at the bright receptionist. She had big, sparkling brown eyes and strawberry-blonde hair that fell in tight curls down to her shoulders. Freckles dusted her soft features and her smile could be compared to the fireworks from the Brooklyn Bridge at New Year's.

I crossed the room and climbed into the stairwell, avoiding the elevator; I was very paranoid of those things. Reaching the third floor and my studio, I opened the teak doors and set my bag down in the corner.

Waving to Tim, the recording guy, I started warming up my voice in the booth. Scales, exercises, and random snippets of my favourite songs... finally I was ready. Colin walked through the doors right on time, giving me the thumbs up. Final song recording began.


	3. Chapter 3

Raphael walked in through the lair door and was confronted by a fuming elder brother.

"And just WHERE do you think you've been?"

Raph sidestepped and pushed past him, but before he could get to the fridge his brother yanked his arm around. He took in Leonardo's angry face. Yep. He was definitely going to get the talk.

"Outside. Where else would I be?" he retorted, without much energy. His head still stung from where that chick with _purple_ hair had dropped a crowbar onto his head earlier that evening. Purple hair? Seriously? Who has _purple hair?_

Leo broke out of his rant. "What?"

Did he say that out loud? Ooops.

"Er. Nothing..."

"Why did you say something about purple hair?" Mikey piped up from beside him. Raph rubbed his sore head sheepishly.

"I didn't say anything about purple hair. You must be imagining things," he chuckled nervously at the end.

"Did you run into Angel, then?" Donatello called from the stairwell. Angel has purple hair. Raph had completely forgotten about _her_.

"Huh? Uh, no. I didn't see her at all, actually," he was stuck. They were _so_ on to him. He was so dead. "I did just say I didn't say anything about purple hair, you know."

Leo rounded on him. He said, "Alright, Raph. What did you do?" As stubborn as Raph knew himself to be, he also knew that they had already seen through him and now he would have to tell them. Oh, joy!

"Well, I went for a training run and I was looking through a dumpster then I heard voices so I jumped in to hide and then a random lady with like, violet hair threw a crowbar into the dumpster and now my head hurts," he blurted out as fast as he possibly could.

Michelangelo burst out in laughter. His other brothers gave him blank stares. Obviously only Mike could understand gobble-dee-goop, probably because he talked so much of it himself. Only when Mikey started wiping tears from his eyes did Leo realise what he had just said.

Raph held his ground even though he felt like backing away as Leo's face scrunched into a furious expression. Before he could say anything, Donnie cut in. He said, "Did she see you?"

Raph tensed. "Uh ... yes..."

And that's when Leo exploded.

Two hours, three hundred and forty-two flips, two cans of beer and five minutes later, Raph was still being lectured. But this time, it was Leo _and_ Splinter. He'd mastered the art of zoning out while still appearing to be listening years ago, so here he was, completely zoned out on the couch in front of Master Splinter and his sidekick, Splinter Junior, as they mimicked each and every thing the other said. He personally couldn't care less, no matter how much they lectured him it wasn't going to change the fact that a purple-haired lady had seen him and not given a damn.

In fact, she'd seemed pretty excited about meeting a mutant turtle. A big, green, weapon-wielding turtle that could have killed her. Sliced her to bits if he'd wanted to. The body probably wouldn't have ever even been found... But she still liked the fact that she'd met him. For some reason.

What the shell was she on?

"Raphael, are you listening?"

Dammit. He'd let down his facade and Splinter had seen it. So he said, "Yes, sensei. I just got a bit sidetracked. That's all."

"Uh, Raph, you just apologized to Sensei when Leo asked you that." Raph closed his eyes, steam rising out from his ears.

"Woops," he retorted sarcastically to Mikey, then stood up and headed to his bedroom.

"Where do you-" Leo began.

"My room," he interrupted him. "See ya." And with that, stalked off to his room.

He didn't let them see him flop into his hammock, exhausted.

Nor did he stay awake like he normally would, but of course they weren't gonna see that either.

Soft breathing filled the room about five seconds after he'd entered it.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hey guys. Hope you enjoyed those last few chapters. Here's number four, and it's in this chapter that major changes will be made from now on. Don't let me keep you, go ... read... ;) Enjoy. :P**

**~Keiba~**

* * *

Shadows engulfed the entire world of the New York City's rooftops. Only if one searched hard enough (and possibly with night-vision goggles) would they see two muscular shapes leaping from roof to roof. Far below, on the city streets and on the water of the strait, thousands of people gathered to watch the amazing light display for New Year's Eve. The Statue of Liberty stood tall, graceful and proud as always, watching the city's celebrations.

Back up top, the two shadowed figures slowed to a halt on a tallish building beside the river. Sitting on the ledge, they joined the excited crowd in the countdown.

"FIVE! FOUR! THREE! TWO! ON-"

"Mikey! Mikey, look!" Raph cried.

"Dude! I didn't get to finish the countdown!" Mikey whined, but his attention was caught by Raphael's finger pointing to inside central park, where an enormous stage was set up, lights shining onto the massive crowd. His gaze moved and followed to what he was pointing at. The fireworks were starting to die down, and the crowd roared in approval as –

"Mike, that's the purple chick!"

-As a lilac shaded ponytail bounced onto the stage, the owner holding a silver microphone in her hands. A sweet, high voice boomed out to the masses, slightly girly although it was fairly mature.

"Let's get closer, I can't hear what she's saying," Mikey suggested. In a matter of moments they were sitting in trees watching the flashing lights of the stage.

"Are y'all having a great time?" she yelled into the mic. The response was a fraction off of deafening. "I CAN'T HEAR YOU!" she roared. The sound crashed off the trees, and Mikey and Raph almost got thrown out of their hiding places when the mob countered.

Music pounded out of the humongous speakers at each side of the stage, and the young woman began to sing.

Nadya was on stage, and the adrenaline was coursing through her as she sang out to her fans. She bounced up and down to the music, the beat bouncing around the metal amphitheatre. She sang for her late mother, who'd died in a car crash three years ago. She sang for herself, for her enjoyment.

She sang for the little girl who constantly haunted her dreams.

Raphael watched as the lilac ponytail flicked and bounced with the beat of the song. She was a great singer. No, she wasn't great – she was _awesome_. She reminded him of someone. He racked his memory, trying to remember where he'd heard that kind of voice before.

"Dude! That's the chick – the new one. You know, the lady who's always on the radio?"

Ahh. That made sense. This was an up-an-coming pop singer. She was pretty good, steadily climbing her way to fame. Mikey had a lot of her music. It was amusing when he epically failed at singing along. Raph chuckled lightly at the thought.

"What are you laughing about?" Mikey asked.

"Never mind. We've got to get-"

He was interrupted by a loud crash. Both turtles whipped their heads back to the stage to see people running and screaming, and a flickering fire engulfing the sides of the stage. There was a horrible creaking sound, and the girl onstage stared up, frozen in fear as the heavy metal bar came swinging down towards her.


	5. Chapter 5

"Mikey!" Michelangelo could hear his brother roaring after him as he sped through the trees towards the blazing theatre. He flipped over the fallen debris and reached the foot of the raised platform just as a heavy metal bar fell on top of the purple haired woman.

"NO!" He cried, scrambling up and trying to lift the heavy thing off of the lady. Raph joined him, and they were eventually able to lift it enough off of her to roll her out.

Mikey stared in disbelief. There was blood _everywhere_. But then there was coughing, and the purple haired lady crawled unsteadily to her hands and knees.

The world was spinning around her. Nadya could barely see a thing, and whatever she did manage to make out was blurry. She awkwardly tried to stand, but her legs wouldn't let her. The feedback earpiece was crackling in her ear, occasionally spiking and making her wince.

Pain throbbed through most of her limbs, and she could feel the blood oozing from her forehead. It trickled down her face and into her eyes and covered her nose, making her sneeze.

She wanted to sleep.

Her eyelids drooped.

All the energy left her muscles, and she collapsed to the ground. The world around her turned grey, and her vision blurred more than it already was, making nothing distinguishable. The last thing she heard was the crackling of the flames around her before her legs and arms gave out underneath her. Coughing up mouthfuls of blood, she collapsed. She couldn't get up, and so she stopped trying.

Nadya graciously welcomed the sleep that ensued.

The shell cell was out, next to his ear.

"Come _on _Don! Pick up already!" Raph muttered, half to himself and half to the phone.

There was a click as his younger brother answered it.

"What's up, Raph?" the cool collected voice of his science-crazed brother asked.

"You need to get to central park RIGHT NOW," he answered, on the verge of panic.

"Why? What's wrong? What happened?"

Raph explained in a rush, and halfway through he could hear the battle shell start up. When he was finished, Don said, "I'm on my way. Try and keep her conscious!" Raph looked over to the singer.

"Too late. She's already unconscious."

Master Splinter could feel panic swarming around his senses. He wandered into the living room, only to find his home eerily quiet.

"My sons?" he questioned the dead air.

No reply.

He searched their rooms; and the kitchen; the dojo; the elevator; everywhere. No sign of them. His sight fell on one of the small gadgets Donatello had given each of them. Splinter tentatively lifted it into his paws, sliding it open. There were a lot of buttons. He sighed, and pushed the purple one.

Nothing happened.

His face contorted in confusion; how did this thing work again? Just as he went to push another of the coloured buttons, a tiny voice wafted out.

"Hello? Hello? Master Splinter?" it called. The old rat smiled. He raised it shyly to his ear.

"Donatello, my son," he greeted. "Where are you?"

"Sorry, Sensei! Can't talk right now! It's an emergency!"

Splinter was about to reply when the line went dead.

The wizened rat huffed and trotted back to his room, for his meditation session was long overdue.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Yeah! I know! Finally, more story! Sorry about that. Up till now, as you old readers might realise, I've had a rough go and this story wasn't going anyway. But now it is, and I'm excited to get it going again! Hopefully it should be complete at around fifteen, twenty chapters. It depends. Also, take a shot and review for any requests because I still need to write up Chapter 7. By the way, any suggestions over what Raph and Mikey's 'brotherly fight' could be about? Review and tell me what you reckon it could be! Anyway, here we go... Enjoy! :D**

**~Keiba~**

* * *

Nadya groggily blinked her eyes open, which seemed quite a feat for her eyelashes were drenched in blood. The purple bangs that fell into her eyes were encrusted with blood. Her ponytail was loose, and she tried and failed to reach behind her to tighten it. Nadya groaned in pain.

"Hold still," a smooth voice instructed. "Rolling around isn't going to help me stem the blood flow."

She glanced up, happening across an olive green face. It was wearing a purple ninja mask, which you have to admit is pretty damn neat. Ninjas are cool. So are turtles... The taught muscles in her face prevented Nadya from grinning, which upset her greatly.

Suddenly there was a stinging pain in her side, and she gasped. "Hush," the smooth, soothing voice spoke again. Nadya squeezed her eyes shut. Her short fingers curled in like claws. She gritted her teeth against the pain. "It's just disinfectant. It will sting a bit, but it'll help heal you."

Soon enough after she re-opened her eyes, Nadya was able to register measured facts about her surroundings. She knew there was a computer bleeping on the far side of the room, if that's what it was because she could hear voices outside and a TV News report and something popping out of a toaster. Most likely toast.

She could now smell. There was a fresh, clean smell around her immediate surroundings, and she could detect the slightest smell of blood, which was probably wafting off her but she was so used to it by now that her nose hadn't registered it.

Nadya could feel a thin mattress beneath her, which seemed to be resting on top of some sort of metal hospital bed frame. Someone draped a warm sheet over her body and she lowered her head slowly off to side. She was rested on a crisp white pillow. It had a few blotches of blood stained here and there, but she didn't really care.

Her vision was still pretty blurred, but she could make out a dimmed light on her far right, which she was thankful for because Nadya was sure she didn't particularly want something blind sighting her moments after she'd opened her eyes. The area she was in was sort of barricaded off from what appeared to be some main living room thing. There were a few computers over here, a shelf full of glistening knick knacks over there...

There were footsteps at the end of her bed. "How are you feeling?" A large green turtle with a purple mask and a stick strapped to its back had appeared. It was the one with the smooth voice.

She grimaced. "Okay, I guess. I mean, I've felt _way_ better than this before," she responded. The turtle nodded. "It hurts," she whimpered.

It sat down in a chair in front of the computer, folding its three green fingers into each other. "My name's Donatello Hamato. I'm sixteen, a mutated turtle, and Ninjitsu apprentice. You are...?"

"Your patient, obviously. Well, for starters you can call me Nadya. I like singing and performing. I'm somewhere in my twenties... I can't really be bothered recalling exactly how old I am. I'm too old, that's for sure," Nadya giggled. She sounded like her dad.

Donatello smiled. "Twenty is not old," a new, exasperated voice entered the range. It sounded as if it had some measure of authority. A blue-masked turtle walked into view. "Leonardo," he introduced himself briskly, holding out a hand for me to shake. I eyed it with a raised eyebrow until he realised his mistake. "Oh. Sorry," he apologised, quickly pulling his hand back.

There was ruckus of noise from the distant room. I heard two voices, one annoyingly young and still seemingly un-broken, and the other retaining a thick Brooklyn accent. I knew the latter, he was the one I'd dropped the crowbar on by accident. I mentally grinned sheepishly.

Both seemed to be in a brotherly squabble. I could tell, because my own older brothers had had many. "What are they fighting about?" I asked, my eyelids already starting to droop. Damn. I thought I'd be able to stay awake a little longer than this. Everything started to sound like it was underwater, clear but still muffled.

"NOT THE FACE!" Someone screamed, and then there was thudding footsteps up what seemed to be stairs and then a lot of crashing noises. They weren't loud to me because I was already slipping back into unconsciousness.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Hey guys! Thanks to my two lovely reviewers. :) Much appreciated, hope you enjoy this next chapter - and that goes for all of you. Just a heads up, yes, I am talking about illicit substances in this chapter, and I will be addressing the subject throughout the rest of this fic. Sorry if you've had bad relations to this. Sorry, but my internet is about to be cut off again, that's why this A/N is rushed. **

**If you want to contact me about a Raph/Mikey predicament, please PM to save spoiling it for other readers if I decide to use your idea. :) Please and thank you, now go read this chapter and ENJOY! :D**

**~Keiba~**

* * *

I pushed a straight purple bang out of my face and behind one ear. I let my eyes drift over onto an empty cork noticeboard, my mind mulling and numb. I wasn't exactly focussing properly. When my eyes feel glassy and unfocussed; I quite enjoy that sensation really. It's a lot different than concentrating all the time. Glassy eyes sort of give me a break and I find I'm capable of being comfortably bored for a period. Weird as that sounds, sometimes I like being 'comfortably bored'. You might as well call it something like disengaged, but I call it comfortably bored. It's just what I use.

The blood rushed slowly through my veins. I shivered, and automatically my hand flew to my forearm, felt the tiny needle scar there. I hadn't had enough money lately to buy ... buy in any of my happiness. But that didn't bother me so much. I could always pinch some of Kayla at that grungy downtown club. She wouldn't mind. She never does. I think she likes it that I go ahead and let go with her once in a while.

I can recall the pounding blood and adrenaline and – and ecstasy that pump through me like a heavy beat at Kayla's downtown club. I remember all the prettiful colours that I can see; all the blues and pinks and reds and yellows. It's like a swarming rainbow. A brilliant rainbow.

But I know that it's not good for me, the bliss that enters my system from just that simple press down on the syringe. Ooh, but doesn't it feel _enchanting_. I love it so much... I used to get headaches when I went too long without my liquids. Now I wasn't so bad, according to the doctor. Now I could go for at least six weeks, give or take a few, before things got out of hand.

Before I started screaming at everyone who looked at me.

Before the terrible mood swings.

Before the rattling started up in my brain, the cells bashing each other around, jiggling my brain hither thither. I don't like that. It's not nice of my cells to do that to me. Not nice at all.

So that's why I give them their little reward for being so good... so good to me for a top of 1008 hours. Or 42 days. Or a month and two weeks, whichever you prefer. But they get their treat at the end of each time slot. I make sure I only ever fill the syringe half-way, but Kayla says I fill it more once the first injection is in.

I can't count on one hand how many recyclable syringes I've chucked out. Tim and ... and whoever the other guy is at work tell me I'm destroying myself, little by little. But it's not fair on my cells if I don't reward them! It's like depriving a good little kid of the giant lollipop they so desperately wanted. It's just not fair.

I think I might be ending my time slot again. I need to go talk to Kayla. She needs to give me the rest of my meds, that's for sure. How do I get out of this hospital bay to see her though? I don't even know where I am. I haven't even stood up yet. Apparently I still haven't fully recovered... I probably won't ever fully recover anyway.

Just not fair...

* * *

Raph stared intensely around the room. He was searching. "Oh _Mikey_," he called gruffly, emphasising his younger brother's name. "Come out, come out and _play_," now he was taunting, a sing-song quality edging the creeping fury of his voice. He ninja sneaked forward, leaping over the couch, sidling behind pillars, feeling particularly stupid when he crab-walked into the kitchen.

Little did Raphael know that high above his head, clinging to pipe work for dear life was his soon-to-be-murdered sibling. Michelangelo dared not breathe. He knew personally how keen his short-tempered brother's senses were – he had, after all, been on the receiving end one too many times before.

Terrified blue eyes darted about behind a striking orange mask. Mikey's gaze followed his crab-walking relative into the kitchen. It was certainly a sight, and despite the young turtle's current predicament he found himself choking back a gasp of laughter. Quickly calming himself, Mikey trained his eyes onto the green and red figure that slinked quietly back into the main area. The youngest mutant begged the gods – or god, depends on what you follow – begged them for mercy, praying that this angry creation would fail to look up.

Down below the pipes and plumbing that sheltered the terrified turtle, Raph was getting sick of searching for Mikey. The red-masked teen sighed in exasperation, rubbing the back of his green neck and turning his face upwards.

Mikey swallowed and tensed, ready to flee for his life.


End file.
